That Road Which You Must Travel
by Scribbler
Summary: Pre canon. The death of Rinoa, the birth of Leon and why Aerith became a healer.


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Disclaimer:

_Alas and alack, _

_Their copyright I lack. _

_Oh … fack. _

**A/N:** This is a result of a review by Angel of the Fallen Stars for another fic I wrote, _Garden of Thoughts and Dreams_. Up until that point I, being quite new to KH, honestly thought the Hollow Bastion crowd had come from a dead version of their relative Final Fantasy worlds and been dumped in Traverse Town like Sora was when the Destiny Islands vanished. Her/his review gave me food for thought about them actually originating from Hollow Bastion, which made me wonder what they got up to before Sora and Co. turned up, which resulted in this fic.

Dedicated also to Edmondia, who has given me much quality KH fic to read in our back-and-forth rec-a-thon on LiveJournal.

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That Road Which You Must Travel

© Scribbler, March 2008.

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Your lost friends are not dead, but gone before, advanced a stage or two upon that road which you must travel in the steps they trod.

**-- Aristophanes **

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It was Aerith who found her. Until the day she died, she knew she'd remember the red, red blood on blue, blue cotton, all torn up with pieces scattered over the rocks like leftovers in a dress shop. Her hood was thrown back and her dark hair was drenched. Head wounds bled a lot, Aerith knew that, they'd covered it in basic medical training but she'd never thought there would be so _much_ –

"Aer… Aer…" Rinoa tried to say through chapped lips, at least until she coughed up even more blood. Her throat was a mess of contusions and there was a ragged gash, stained sooty-black at the edges, which ran from her left collarbone to the top of her right breast.

"Shh, lie still," Aerith said, dropping to her own scabbed knees and cradling Rinoa's head. She was gentle but Rinoa still whimpered with pain at being moved. "I can cast … I have …" Aerith's fingers fumbled for the pouch Merlin had given her. When she discovered it wasn't on her belt she felt like she'd been stabbed through the back with an icicle. "No. Oh no. No, no, no, no…"

Rinoa looked at her with understanding eyes. "Was waitin'," she slurred. "Held on … c-couldn't …"

Aerith scanned the surrounding rock face for signs of someone else. They all carried Merlin's pouches and _someone_ else must've seen the flare. Yuffie could be springing from boulder to boulder right now, racing to the rescue, or maybe Tifa was doing one of those incredible jumps that made her look like she could fly, or maybe _Cloud_ was on his way back from wherever he'd gone looking for Sephiroth and had recognised the flash of light –

There were sprays of what looked like black dust over everything. Gods, there must have been so many Heartless to leave that much residue. An ambush – had to be. Separate the strongest fighters and then defeat them through sheer force of numbers. Except Heartless weren't self-aware enough to plan an assault like that, were they? Heartless just attacked whatever came within reach. They were mindless, like drones in a hive. They couldn't _strategise_. Not unless someone else was directing them …

Suspicions crowded into Aerith's mind even as she shoved them away to focus on Rinoa.

She knew her friend was powerful, but even Rinoa had her limits. The pillar of light that led Aerith to her must've been Angel Wing, the spell Rinoa was never, ever supposed to use. Squall had made her promise after the last time nearly killed her. The long wait by her bedside nearly killed him too. He was half-dead behind his eyes until hers fluttered open, and the sight of them reunited made Aerith ache for Zack. Rinoa would never break her promise unless she thought she was gong to die anyway. It must've been her last ditch attempt to take as many Heartless with her as she could. Judging by the residue and the smell of burnt ozone, she'd taken them _all_ out.

"You should've waited. I wasn't far away. I could've helped you-"

Rinoa's hand closed around Aerith's wrist in a surprisingly strong grip. "T-Tell," she stuttered. Her breathing was laboured and when she spoke fresh gouts of blood ran down her face. One of her cheekbones poked through the skin and her left eyebrow was a mess of pulpy tissue. "Tll hmmm …"

This wasn't right. This wasn't _right_. It wasn't supposed to happen like this.

"Rinoa, please. Please don't," Aerith said, unable to finish the sentence. "Please don't." Please don't what? Don't try to talk? Don't say these things to me? Don't die? Don't go before Squall gets here?

Oh gods, _Squall…_

Rinoa gave a small smile. Her smiles always lit up a room but this one was an ugly, bloodstained thing that showed how many teeth were gone and made Aerith's divert her eyes – except they went to where the other girl's legs were bent at odd angles, like sacks full of broken glass. There was no part of her that _wasn't_ damaged except her eyes, and even their focus was blurring.

For a second Aerith was transported back to the first day she met Rinoa. She recalled Cid's creaky floorboards and shaking hands politely until Rinoa smiled and hugged her like they'd known each other for years. Aerith remembered thinking then how strong Rinoa's grip was, how it belied her tiny figure and skinny arms. Rinoa wasn't beautiful, but she was small and pretty and looked like she needed protecting. You'd never guess she had enough power inside her to wipe out a field of Heartless, just like you'd never guess her reckless sense of fun and lack of discipline would capture the heart of the most po-faced man in Traverse Town. Rinoa was good at challenging expectations.

Suddenly a thousand tiny memories flickered into Aerith's mind: Rinoa and Yuffie giggling shiftily in a corner; the fatal sheen of Blaster Edge in battle; early morning and the smell of pancakes; shared tears when Zack didn't come home and Cloud left; Squall's tiny smile when Rinoa dragged him out to dance to Merlin's enchanted instruments, his furrowed brow when they butted heads over battle plans and the way he corrected his lover without looking up when she shortened his name to Leon just to irritate him because she thought he was working too hard. Images flashed past, making Aerith feel like her face had been torn off and thrown down into a well of memories. She didn't want to hit the icy water at the bottom.

It was supposed to be Squall here. He was the prince to Rinoa's princess. That was the way love stories worked. They didn't end in blood and tears from the wrong person, they had last-minute-rescues, happily ever afters and kisses against a purple-orange sunset. Rinoa wasn't allowed to _die_; not like this. She was supposed to grow old and have kids and sleep night after night in Squall's arms in the bed they shared.

"Please don't," Aerith said again, voice breaking.

Rinoa's smile didn't waver. "Tell h-him …"

"Who? Squall? Tell him yourself! Tell him you love him yourself!"

"T-tell … t-too many … stupid beltsssss…" Her eyes slid shut and her grip relaxed.

"Rinoa? Rinoa!" It was completely against medical protocol but Aerith shook her. The blood in Rinoa's mouth ran down her chin. When her hair flicked up some more splattered onto Aerith's face and into _her_ mouth. Rinoa's blood tasted coppery and cold. Aerith thought she might actually throw up, but her throat had closed. "Rin…" she whispered, but she couldn't even get the whole name out.

No heartbeat.

No pulse.

No … Rinoa.

And still no Squall, or Yuffie, or Tifa or anyone else to save the day. Just Aerith, helpless and crying and covered in blood.

It was wrong. It was all wrong. Where was the fairytale ending? Aerith couldn't deal with another loss. She didn't want to pass by Rinoa's room the way she did Zack's. She didn't want to stare at another empty place at their table, or lay down on another empty bed just to feel closer to someone who would never come home again. She didn't want to sleep with another bandana under her pillow or make too much dinner and not realise until it was left to go cold in the saucepan. She didn't want another piece of her heart to vanish and she _especially_ didn't want to see Squall go dead behind the eyes again. She didn't want him to become like Cloud.

Cloud blamed himself for not being there when his best friend needed him. The day Zack died, Cloud's eyes changed; became empty, as though someone had ripped his spirit out of him with white-hot tongs. Squall would find a way to blame himself, too, because that was just the way he was. He was their leader. He felt responsible when things went wrong. Only Rinoa kept him from going over the edge as their victories became fewer and their losses mounted.

Rinoa would never forgive her if Squall's eyes became like Cloud's.

If only Aerith had learned more healing spells. If only there was a way to heal serious wounds without Merlin's crystals and herbs. If only her mind hadn't gone blank. If only she'd been closer, had got there quicker. If only Rinoa had waited. If only the Heartless hadn't struck so many locations at once and separated their forces. If only there was a way to fight them that wasn't just defensive. If only they could stop them invading their home somehow. If only they knew more _about_ the Heartless. If only she'd never met Rinoa. If only she'd never encountered the Restoration Committee in the first place. If only she hadn't followed Cloud and Zack when they joined. If only she'd stayed in her flower shop and ignored the call to arms. If only she hadn't fallen for Zack and wanted to be near him wherever he went. If only, if only, if only…

And finally that was all Aerith could think as she knelt on the rocks and rocked her friend's cooling body back and forth, back and forth against the purple-orange sunset, all the while murmuring, "Please don't, please don't, please don't…"

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Fin.

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